Chapter 4

The middleman shot a glance at Christian, then handed me his phone.

I took it and dialed immediately, telling whoever picked up to bring the money within thirty minutes.

The next half hour passed in dead silence.

The clock ticked down. Ten minutes left.

Giselle couldn't sit still anymore. She shot up from her chair.

"I can't believe I actually bought that bullshit. What kind of broke losers does she even know who could scrape together that kind of cash?"

"Manager—get your men over here. Nobody's stupid enough to cross Christian and show up for her. Stop wasting everyone's time."

The manager motioned, and four enforcers started closing in on me.

I held up a hand.

"Wait. There's still ten minutes on the clock."

"Ten minutes from now, someone will be here to pay."

Giselle let out a sharp laugh.

"Fuck your ten minutes. You know what? Fine. If someone actually shows up with the money in ten minutes, I'll bite down on that raw steak myself and crawl out on all fours like a dog."

I looked at her and smiled.

"Remember you said that."

"Everyone here's my witness," Giselle announced, loud enough for the whole room. "I said it!"

The crowd burst into laughter, settling in for the grand finale.

With just a few minutes left, some bloated capo at the side table—drunk, face flushed red—couldn't hold back anymore. He reached out and grabbed for my shoulder.

"Get your hands off me!"

I slapped his hand away.

He rubbed his chin, leering at me like I was meat on a platter.

"Not bad at all, Christian. Since you're done with her, how about you just hand her over to me?"

Christian took a slow sip of his whiskey, flicking his lighter open and shut, his voice flat.

"As long as she can't pay, she's yours to do whatever you want with."

I turned to him.

"Christian. Do you really love Giselle that much?"

Christian smirked, reaching out to grip my chin between his fingers.

"I just need you to understand—without me, you're nothing. A woman who doesn't behave needs to learn her place."

I was shaking all over. He let go, leaning back with a lazy sigh.

"My patience is done."

That was all the permission they needed. The mob bosses around me lost whatever last scrap of restraint they had, grinning as they closed in.

Giselle barked at the guards.

"Grab her. Don't let her move!"

The guards lunged and pinned my arms behind my back.

I struggled, twisting to look at Christian still sitting there like a king on his throne. Three years. Three years I'd actually believed he could give me happiness.

"Don't look at me like that, Iliana." His voice didn't even waver. "This is a lesson you needed to learn. You thought you could run wild on this street just because you carried my name? Tonight, you see exactly where you stand."

The fat bastards laughed, their grimy hands reaching for my gown.

I fought. I fought like hell. And the whole room laughed harder.

I locked eyes with every single one of them.

"Remember the faces you're making right now. Because in about two minutes, every last one of you is going to pay."

Giselle spat.

"Rip that dress off her. Time's up. No more—"

CRASH!

The club's massive brass doors burst open, slammed inward by a force that shook the walls.

Dozens of men in tactical black suits flooded in—heavy firearms strapped to every waist—and took down the guards around me with brutal, surgical precision before anyone could blink.

The room went dead silent.

Then came the click of heels on marble.

Walking in was Francesca—the chief executor of the largest underground money-laundering network and mafia trust in the country. In this world, even the most powerful Dons knew to step lightly around her.

She carried a heavy reinforced metal briefcase. Her cold eyes swept through the crowd without a pause, cutting straight to me.

She stopped in front of me. Bent low. Rose.

"Miss. Moretti, I've brought the cash. I hope I'm not too late."